[Tent City] Wandering the Tents

[Kreig Messer]

81st of Summer, 518 A.V. 9th Bell, 3rd chime.

Season’s end neared, Summer would soon give way to Autumn to Autumn would come Winter… if Winter would ever return. Kreig did not focus upon that however as he stalked down Tent City. The sea of tents had no roads, only refuse, nothing to offer to the common man of Sunberth except a desire to never find them self as one of its inhabitants, for only the poor, desperate and the outcast lived here destined to wallow out a living in squalor while constantly the threat of enslavement by those that saw them cattle.

Kreig’s mind still returned to the time when the area was under threat by a cannibalistic creature who threatened to burn the entire area to ashes simply to find a way that lead to some underground tunnels that could lead him to a place that could farm these things called algae… something that Kreig viewed as beneficial to the people here if Kreig himself were to find it. Though if the goddess Yshul to be believed, as something to eat it was rather lacking in proper taste.

And that was a thing, wasn’t it? Kreig’s arm rached for his shoulder absentmindedly as he passed by a couple of men arguing over the ownership of a stale peace of bed. Kreig had been marked by gods, two of them. Yshul and Yahal both had marked him as someone of interest to them and now he had their signs upon him.

A broken lock on his shoulder, a small pair of wings on his back. Both intricate, both beautiful, both distinct in such a way that only fools of the highest caliber would mistake fakes for the real thing.

It was amazing the fact hadn’t settled in proper yet, even as he stopped suddenly and looked at the two men whose voices had gotten louder, that fact still felt still like a dream. Kreig withheld a sigh as he saw the two men about to come to blows over the hardly satisfying peace of food.

Kreig made his way to the two stepping between them, hand grabbing for the stale loaf of bread “Quit yer belly achin’” Kreig said, voice raising loud over the surprise and angry protest of the two men dirt. Kreig looked at them both, they’re clothes tattered, skin poxed and blotchy, barely any meat on them. They looked at him with fear, some defiance, but even they were aware there was a difference between themselves and the man before them.

“H-hey, that there’s our bread ya thief!” One of them called out, the only voice of defiance between them. Kreig raised a brow and give a soft little smirk.

“Oh, I’m knowin’ that. An’ such a fine piece it is, reckon I need me a snack” His other hand reached for his pocket, pulling out to pieces of silver “Here, for your troubles” Kreig said as he placed a piece each in their hand, making use of their stupefied expression before walking away with his overpaid spoils.

He knew it solved nothing, a silver coin would probably last them only a day and they might not even spend it and in fact it was likely they’d be robbed of it. Kreig didn’t even know if they deserved his coin, but part of him didn’t care…. For one it would at least stop their fighting, giving brief respite to their neighbors and the chance that at least fresh bread would fill their stomachs rather than stale ones.

He had to at least have faith in that.

oocLedger= -2 SM
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[Kreig Messer]

With stale bread in hand, Kreig continued his wandering through the twist and turns of Tent City, thoughts returning to the two gods that marked him so. Was his act so great truly? That two gods so different would mark him so? He struggled with that still, his fingers tapping at his side as he navigated through the sea of people, some holding wary gazes upon Kreig as he walked by.

Kreig didn’t notice, or rather he chose not to as he continued his pace. If he chose too he would not have blamed them, his clothing was cleaner than theirs, his form was healthier than theirs, and the fact he was no stranger to battle made it even worse. He could have easily been one of those that persecuted them, so why not be wary? It was common sense even if he didn’t apparently carry any weapons.

In fact he didn’t even have his gauntlets upon him, treasured as both pairs were. But that made Kreig no less dangerous, for the fact was the brawler hardly needed any weapon save himself, and he wasn’t an unknown figure, at least in his mind he was known enough upon the lips of those who visit Tall Johnny’s.

Boot steps fell upon muddied grounds as he soon found himself at the well near the tent where he’d killed the bloat, where his latest nightmares took source from. His free hand tightened into a fist, so hard that it turned pale as his he schooled his face into an expressionless mask. His eyes fell upon the tent, its appearance seemed to match its surroundings better now.... still clearly better than its ramshackle and tattered fellows, yet clearly it had new occupants despite what had gone on there.

So much death occurred inside there, the latest one as far as he was aware was him killing a being that had once been man… he carried the symbol of its god in his pocket.

He hated the being that could spawn such a monster, and the fact others were coming albeit with different masters made it worse. Ten, ten beings whose faces and names he knew not about…. Would they be as monstrous as the mockery of man he’d killed? Or would they be a challenge in a different master?

So often his thoughts visited this, again and again. Yet Kreig did tend to overthink, yet he had faith they would come…. Yahal and Yshul both said so, and he’d faith that he would make the lives of these ten very difficult.

After all, he was a troublesome sort, he wouldn't be a good child of Sunberth if he didn't.
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[Kreig Messer]

He continued wandering, no longer wishing to be in the same vicinity as that tent. His eyes watched the people, some eyes watched back. There was a squelching sound to hi steps, almost identical to that of theirs as theirs, more than one having no shoes. He was always amazed by just how poor they were, and always struck by the realization just how lucky he was.

He cracked the knuckles of his left hand with his thumb, out of habit more than anything. His gaze fell upon children running about, playing carefree although there was no disguising the hardship beneath from living in such a decaying place. Some were familiar to him, the children he’d given coin to spread the news about him giving coin at Tall Johnny’s.

Coin well-earned Kreig felt, it meant saving people for good or worse. He could only have faith that he did the right thing, it got him marked hadn’t it?

His eyes fell upon a child who was alone, eyes heavy and tired. Kreig saw no joy in it. His hand reached into his pocket and quietly pulled a gold miza, keeping it in his hand as he subtly slid it beneath the palm of his other hand and the dried bread.

“Oy kid, you ain’t lookin’ about right” Kreig said softly as he approached the child. The child stiffened and looked up at him, as if about ready to bolt but unsure if he could outrun the slab of a man before “Calm yer rear then, only wonderin’ if ya want this ‘ere bread. ‘s stale but I reckon ya can eat it still” And if he can’t he at least had a gold coin. The brawler extended the bread and the hidden coin.

“How I’mma gonna know ya ain’t tryin’ ta make me sleep” The child retorted, his hand extended but pulling back with a raised brow.

‘smart kid’ Kreig thought, a pang of anguish filling him in a brief tick as he thought about those who certainly weren’t paranoid enough to combat their own desperation for food and drink “Ya don’t” Kreig admitted with a nod “If ya ain’t likin’ it toss, if ya think ya can risk it, go ahead”

Kreig held out the bread again, turning his hand so that he would place the bread in the child’s palm. The golden miza would rest upon it. The child looked at him a moment longer, before slowly taking the bread away with that same hesitation before his eyes widened as he saw the golden rimmed piece.

“By the way kid” Kreig began, watching the child’s head snap up from its shock as he looked at the brawler who had a cheery grin in his eye “ Don’t lose that there suspicion yer holdin’, it’ll keep ya breathin’ “ He warned, then gave out a smile as he wandered off again.

He hoped the child would make use of that wisely, he had a brain on his shoulder it seemed. Perhaps he would, Kreig didn’t know. He only hoped he hadn’t marked the kid for death or something. And Kreig handing money out like candy wouldn’t solve much either ultimately, they’d just pester him for more unless he could better their lives in a more permanent way.

But it was a start, right?

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